


After Brwydr Camlan

by MissFeya



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:16:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4710659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissFeya/pseuds/MissFeya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Arthur's Last Battle, Merlin has to decide where to go next. And does a retired magician have the free time to reconcile with his/her nemesis? post-S5 (but set without knowledge of the finale), M chapters coming soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. After Brwydr Camlan

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't seen the finale. PLEASE don't tell me what happens.
> 
> Author's First Note: I've only recently gotten around to watching Merlin, so of course it turns out to be a five season-capped series, haha. I actually think it was a great idea on the writers' part, although having read some Arthurian legend I'm surprised they picked 5 and not say, 12. Once I had read an interview with Colin Morgan where he said they were going to follow the same ending as the legends I knew [SPOILERS, DUH] poor Arthur was toast. The Mergana thing doesn't show up in many mainstream tellings of the legend (and largely unexplored in the series too, damn) so I thought a post-series story could work fairly well. Enjoy! :) Disclaimer for entire 'After Brwydr Camlan' story: I don't own Merlin. Just this tale.

CHAPTER 1: After Brwydr Camlan

The sky was transparent the day King Arthur of Camelot was dealt a mortal wound by Mordred, his once most loyal knight. The knights of Camelot, brave and valiant, tirelessly battled the rebel army, darkly commanded by the sorceress Morgana le Fey. An ominous sun began to set, glowing morbidly in the west; it tinted the field in crimson, transformed armor into fire, and the blood into garnet pools. Casualties, strewn across the battlefield, were shrouded in the moving shadows of the tattered standards, those embroidered declarations of house and family triumph transformed into eulogies and headstones.

There were no wounded cries, for everyone was dead.

King Arthur had fallen with sword still in hand. Excaliber had plunged into the earth as the king fell back for the last time. At least Mordred's blow had been answered with a mortal strike of its own. The unfortunate Druid lay crumpled on his side, icy eyes staring across the battlefield.

The king's arm stretched to the sky still tightly gripping the hilt of his shining blade, magically untainted by dirt or blood. His helmet long-gone, Arthur's young, still features looked as if asleep. But the bloody light did not tinge the king with the stain of war. A normal day's sunshine, as fair as could be found in any part of Camelot, glistened around him. This was all that his loyal servant and friend had left to give him. One of Merlin's aged, wrinkled hand swept across Arthur's brow, smoothing the golden hair; the other hand settled on top of Excaliber's hilt, covering Arthur's.

"My king," he murmured, tears bringing renewed shine to his faded blue eyes. "I strove so long to serve you so that our destinies would be fulfilled."

He glanced askance at Mordred. "But-," Merlin's voice caught and he painfully swallowed. "I have failed. After everything, I could not do what had to be done, and for that I am sorry." Merlin's fingers tightened over Arthur's until his arm trembled and his knuckles turned white.

"I am so sorry, my friend."

Merlin gently slid Arthur's fingers from the sword's hilt and set the king's hands in a regal pose on his chest. He kneeled for a moment with eyes closed, curling his long fingers that looked more white and dead around his friend's tan wrists, trying to ignore the metallic and dirty scent around him. Then, folding Arthur's cloak over until it covered his body, Merlin arranged it so that the gloriously embroidered Pendragon shone fully golden in the unearthly sunshine.  
Then, Merlin pulled a slicing Excaliber from the ground. With a quick whisper, Merlin banished any stain from marring the king's cloak ever again, and turned away from the purer light.

His red robe streamed out over the grass as he moved through the carnage; it rippled over fallen swords and bloodied, outstretched hands. He stopped and laid a hand on the foreheads of all his dear friends.  
Gwaine and Percival lay side by side; they had fought at each other's backs. Merlin looked for Leon, but he was nowhere to be found.

Merlin strode east, aimless, until the forest came up to meet him. There at the edge, where natural trees met the upheaved earth of a supernatural battlefield, lay his wooden staff, its crystal muddied. Picking it up, he gave the field a last dejected look and turned to approach the forest when a moan erupted from nearby. A glimmer of hope lit in his chest and Merlin, using both Excalibur and his staff as supports, roughly leaped over the broad trunk of a fallen tree unnaturally uprooted only hours before.

Lying curled up against a cracked bough, with a bloody face and a rough wound that cut through trousers and flesh from her right hip to the back of her right knee, was Morgana le Fey. Her eyes glared angrily through blood-matted hair, still half-twisted into a regal, battle-worthy crown, and Merlin gripped his staff in astonishment. His face worked hard not to show it.

"So you're alive," he said in a monotone. Morgana's fist curled against her stomach, blood from a second wound trickling out between her fingers.

Her breathing was labored as she bit out sarcastically, "Oh please, Emrys, help me."

His voice rose in a rage, his staff trembling on the ground, as he looked down upon her. "Is this really what you wanted, Morgana?"

Morgana's eyes slid away to look west over his shoulder into that bloody sun, over the destruction she had wrought, and the heaps of bodies that measured her failure. Merlin angrily stepped in front of the sun's light and she narrowed her eyes as a crimson halo lit his robes and burned his white hair. Only his pale blue eyes shone from the shadow of his face.

"King Arthur of Camelot, the Once and Future King, is dead. Your brother is dead." Her eyes flitted down the hill toward the still brilliant patch of white light, then moved back to his. Stubbornly, she said nothing.

"You have destroyed the chance for a united Albion. Magic will fade from the world of men, and the practice of it will become nothing more than fairy stories. Your part in this is unforgivable," he intoned.

Morgana violently reared up into a sitting position, angrily gasping against her wounded ribs, "I have done everything to bring magic back to this realm! I fought for Camelot! I fought against Uther's cruelty and Arthur's injustice. I-"

"You fought your father and brother for your own selfish reasons!"

Morgana's fingers gripped unfeelingly into the tree's rough bark as she pulled herself to her knees, her imperious green gaze meeting his righteous one.

"My father and brother murdered people," she hissed. "And you waited and watched while violence was done to your kind-"

"The Great Dragon had prophesied-"

"I was given prophesies too," she hissed. "And what came of his prophesy, oh Great Emrys?" Her voice clamored around him. "Did you ever hear Arthur decree the welcome presence of magic? Did your beloved king sit you at his right hand and welcome you to his table and tell his children that a magician was one of Camelot's good and worthy men?"

She was standing now.

"Or did you make excuses for your friend until the moment he was struck down by the magic he betrayed?"

Merlin had listened to her with a face like stone, but now he slammed his staff on the ground, startling her slightly.

"Mordred killed Arthur, magic did not, Morgana, because it is not magic that excuses such a deed," he said in a warning tone. "If things had been allowed to run their proper course-". Morgana spat at his feet.

"Don't condescend and lie to me, Merlin, as you've always done, even as a servant boy." She relished the flash of sadness that crossed Merlin's face but stubbornly straightened her injured body.

"You thought you knew what would happen, so you let horrible things happen." Morgana panted her declaration, "I, not you, fought against the evil inside Camelot." Merlin's anger faltered for a moment. "If magic fades from the world of men," one knee hit the ground," then it is because of Merlin."

He watched her finally collapse to both knees, one hand against her side and her other fiercely gripping the grasses beneath her, nails digging into the dirt. Merlin had opened his mouth to speak, protestations readying themselves on his tongue, when he heard the distant beat of horses' hooves.

To the west, now lit in the golden light of sunset, seven knights had crested the hill rise. They rode back and forth among the dead looking for survivors, arms pointing toward the far-flung colors of their friends; Merlin could see their defeated posture even from across the battlefield. As they moved closer Merlin could see the tawny hair of their leader, Sir Leon. He breathed a sigh of relief, and at once was struck by a fast-paced vision.

 _Leon would set Arthur adrift on the very lake where Merlin had laid Freya to rest so long ago. Seven knights would remain loyal to a great Round Table, although tumultuous times would scatter the knights and their nation for centuries to come._  
_But other round tables appeared in front of Merlin's gaze, both small and large, some surrounded by both men and women. There would still be round tables even as man created buildings that could scrape the sky. And they would forever be connected back through time to Arthur, the Once and Future King._

As Merlin came back to himself Sir Leon rode closer, and with a shout began to gallop toward the supernatural sunshine marking where his majesty lay. Red cloaks flying as owners leapt from horses, the knights all gathered to kneel around Arthur's body; their hands settled on each other's shoulders, heads bowed. The light cast their group in such a heart-wrenching image that Merlin turned away before it would change, holding it in his memory. He knew the image would have to last him forever.

He knelt on front of Morgana and laid his hand over hers in the dirt. Pain froze her in place, and he could tell she desperately fought the urge to yank her hands away. She stared at the ground instead.

"We are done here, Morgana," he sadly murmured. "They do not need or want us anymore." He was glad she would not look at him.

She released her words in one breath, "The world is magic. The world needs magic."

He nodded, half-agreeing, and slid his hand away from hers. Beneath her gaze, Merlin dug a long trench between them, flinging bloodied grass to the side and scraping the dirt until only pure, earthy moisture was visible. He placed his staff at the bottom of the trench. Only then did Morgana look up at him, in confusion and wariness. Merlin settled back on his heels and took a small vial from his pocket. With one dirty, wrinkled hand settled against the cheek of his snowy beard and a slightly wry smile, he tipped the vial into his mouth with the other. As if a fog blew away across a mountainside, gone were the wrinkles, the snowy hair, and the knotted and gnarled hands. In their place were the black hair and end-of-day beard of a young man. Merlin capped the vial, then with a slight shyness looked up at Morgana with the restored crystalline-blue eyes of her doom, her destiny, her childhood friend.

"What a clever trick," she said, drily. His brow furrowed slightly, but he only placed the vial in the trench beside the staff and filled in the hole with dirt, patting it down carefully. Without looking at her, Merlin firmly encircled her free hand with his own and slid them over the fresh earth, then pressed them down further into the dirt. He stared at their hands and nodded again, agreeing again.

"Yes," he said, "The world is magic."


	2. On a hillside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana is wounded but still argumentative, basically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's First Note: Oh boy, another chapter! This one is shorter than the first but it seemed to reach a natural stopping point. I have not started watching the Merlin finale (I don't want it to be over!) so if there's any overlap it's completely by accident.

_........Merlin settled back on his heels and took a small vial from his pocket. With one dirty, wrinkled hand settled against the cheek of his snowy beard and a slightly wry smile, he tipped the vial into his mouth with the other. As if a fog blew away across a mountainside, gone were the wrinkles, the snowy hair, and the knotted and gnarled hands. In their place were the black hair and end-of-day beard of a young man. Merlin capped the vial, then with a slight shyness looked up at Morgana with the restored crystalline-blue eyes of her doom, her destiny, her childhood friend._

_"What a clever trick," she said, drily._

_His brow furrowed slightly, but he only placed the vial in the trench beside the staff and filled in the hole with dirt, patting it down carefully. Without looking at her, Merlin firmly encircled her free hand with his own and slid them over the fresh earth, then pressed them down further into the dirt. He stared at their hands and nodded again, agreeing again._

_"Yes," he said, "The world is magic."_

CHAPTER 2: On a hillside

"What _nonsense_ are you spouting now?" Morgana asked disdainfully as she pulled her hand back, clenching it tightly to her knee. She shook her head disbelievingly, not looking at him.

Merlin pursed his lips, settled back on his heels, and flung an arm back toward the battlefield.

"Do you think magic is meant for _this_ , Morgana? Could you honestly say that you used your magic for an honorable purpose? Something worthy of a kingdom?"

Morgana reared her head and rolled her eyes at his words.

"So high and mighty, Merlin. If you thought magic was so wonderful then why not use it to help magic folk?" Her voice was almost earnest now. "Why not use it to help me?"

Merlin opened his mouth and then closed it quickly. His inner tirade at her reaction had been interrupted by her question, a question that had many answers. He was thrown, and he reverted to his simplest justification.

"Kilgharrah told me to protect Arthur and-"

"Kilgharrah! And Kilgharrah knows all," she mocked contemptuously. "Kilgharrah rules Camelot and magic, and hands down judgments, does he? The vicious old lizard. What I could have done for magic had there been no 'Last Great Dragon'!"

Merlin listened without surprise at Morgana's disdain, although he did not know the extent of Morgana's knowledge of the prophecies against her. But, uncertainty passed over his face as she spat out her last sentiment.

"As I said before, _magic_ doesn't need _us_ ," he repeated, making a nonchalant production of using the bottom of his robe to rub the dirt from his hands. He rocked back into a standing position and surreptitiously glanced down the hill.

Morgana, readying another sarcastic retort, was momentarily stilled by this small action. Gods, how many times before had she seen him look so longingly at the knights, by the practice yard or during a feast? Other than the toothy grin that so easily turned the serious and sarcastic boy into the playful and teasing boy, Merlin's expression now as he watched Sir Leon wrap Arthur's body was the most familiar to her.

Merlin shook his head as if to clear it and kneeled again behind the uprooted trees, out of sight from most of the battlefield and his friends.

Well, she had not seen his grin in years, had she? Now, Merlin only looked at her with hatred and disappointment.

As he cursed himself for looking he suddenly heard Morgana say in her usual taunting manner, "Maybe you're afraid no one will ever need you again, magic or not."

His head snapped over to look at her, blue eyes piercing in their anger, and his bitterness rushed out, "What, do you imagine Queen Mab is anxiously awaiting your arrival in the enchanted forest? You think she can't protect the magic in her own realm without your help? You never even found the Diamair, and I can tell you, such a creature has no love for you. Or do you expect the Disir to welcome you home? They have their three."

He advanced toward her, glaring into Morgana's stubborn green eyes, although their stubbornness seemed to waver when confronted with his knowledge of three powerful entities she had previously thought known only to her. Merlin did not notice, and continued matter-of-factly.

" _Who_ would possibly need you, now?"

Morgana looked stricken, and angry, and hurt, her lips a paler pink than Merlin had ever seen before. Across the mere inches that now separated their faces, he could see that his response had delivered the intended cruel effect. Merlin felt a familiar guilt twist in his gut and clenched his fists in resentment. But indeed, his angry brow relaxed and regret kept him from going any further. Morgana's own emotion clouded her gaze so strongly she was unable to notice his restraint.

Morgana turned toward the ground and Merlin watched the caked mud crack on her throat as she spoke, "I'm rather exhausted of you right now, Merlin." She worked to make her tone cold and uncaring, imperial. "Since I doubt you can muster up the courage to kill me, it would be nice if you went away."

But Morgana's voice had grown much fainter as she spoke; he knew she would not hear any retort of his. Blood had stained the hand on her ribs an ugly dark brown. If she swayed away from her leg sometimes her breath would catch in her throat. Then the ground would glisten red for awhile more.

But he couldn't indulge his instinct to help her. Not yet. Not after everything she had done and while his friend was being mourned on this very same hillside.

So he answered her question again, "It doesn't matter if anyone needs me. I've spent the better part of a decade trying to fulfill a destiny that I never reached. My friends are dead and my king is dead." He sighed. "I'm not so worried about what I can do for magic anymore."

This seemed to provoke some energy in her, and she impatiently retorted, "So you give back your little trinkets in some show of, what? Sacrifice?" She rolled her eyes. "Like you ever needed them."

"I was trying to-!" Merlin sputtered in surprise, but his indignation was stopped cold when Morgana's elbow bent and could hold her no longer. She slumped down into the grass, reopening the wound on her ribs and revealing a frightening pool of blood beneath her leg.

"Morgana!"

Merlin hurriedly bent over Morgana and placed a hand on each wound. Healing spells emerged naturally from his lips but her eyelids fluttered shut. Morgana's hand had stayed on her ribs, now under Merlin's hand, but it didn't move and she didn't fight. Morgana managed to slowly shake her head.

"What's wrong with you, Merlin?" she whispered bitterly. "Why do you always try to save me?"

Merlin shook his head and quickly yanked his robe over his head. He threw the robe over Morgana and slid an arm under her shoulders.

"Just stop," she murmured, and feebly pushed at him. Merlin scoffed and hefted her legs over his other arm. Morgana retaliated by digging her nails into the side of his neck. He hauled her up and started toward the forest, his neckerchief having blocked her efforts.

"You stop," he retorted, picking his way over the last of the fallen trees and finally disappearing into the forest.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I really do appreciate reviews so much. I'm struggling to capture their voices; I wish it were so easy as saying, "Then Merlin did that disapproving grump-face that Colin Morgan's so good at." Ah well.
> 
> If you DO review, remember don't reveal any finale events! I mean ANYTHING. Don't even tell me if you liked it.**


	3. Make a decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, I STILL haven't watched the finale! I don't know how I did it, but I did. Little things have snuck through (thanks, Pinterest, geesh) but nothing plot-wise, so I beg you once again to NOT REVEAL ANYTHING.
> 
> Sometimes I think that I can watch the writers' version and then write this but I keep stopping myself. If you review, please don't reveal what happens. Reviewers have heavily implied I won't want to finish this if I did know what happened in the finale.

_"What's wrong with you, Merlin?" she whispered bitterly. "Why do you always try to save me?"_

_Merlin shook his head and quickly yanked his robe over his head. He threw the robe over Morgana and slid an arm under her shoulders._

_"Just stop," she murmured, and feebly pushed at him. Merlin scoffed and hefted her legs over his other arm. Morgana retaliated by digging her nails into the side of his neck. He hauled her up and started toward the forest, his neckerchief having blocked her efforts._

_"You stop," he retorted, picking his way over the last of the fallen trees and finally disappearing into the forest._

CHAPTER 3: Make A Decision

Dusk had already settled in amongst the trees, slowing Merlin's progress. He gripped Morgana tightly, less to avoid tripping and dropping her and more to avoid being gentle. He couldn't be gentle with her right now. Otherwise, he tried not to look at her, his lips pressed in frustration.

Merlin cursed his inability to leave her on the field, out loud and hoping she would hear. His foolish, mis-placed inability to recognize when something was beyond his efforts...wasn't this how he came to be on that battlefield in the first place?

Suddenly, he set her against a tree, not even blinking when her face scraped the bark but tucking the robe around her nonetheless. Morgana's head lolled to the side, her face devoid of color and its normal emotion. Panting, Merlin backed away and collapsed clumsily against another tree, elbows propped on his knees. He clasped his hands and dug his thumbs into his forehead, hoping his slapdash healing spells had done enough to give him time to think.

"Never could follow an order." Morgana's voice, with renewed energy, carried through the twilight. Merlin looked up indignantly, unamused.

"I saved your life. I feel like Pendragons never thank me when I save them," he huffed. He was suddenly struck with sadness. He had not looked back at the knights. Morgana threw his red robe aside, her eyes sliding along the ground until they met his.

"When you save one of us permanently, then maybe we will."

She then intently examined the wound on her leg, casually flinging her insult without watching for its result, but Merlin was struck dumb.

"You didn't heal me permanently," she pointed out with a small smile, with a tinge of respect.

But Merlin missed any compliment and said in an overly sarcastic tone, "You're not surprised I healed you at all? I've been busy," he held fingers up one by one, "War. Death. You."

Morgana tilted her head to the side and pouted in mock sympathy. "Poor, all-powerful Merlin," came her smirking answer. "Powerful enough to still manage healing spells."

Merlin sent a look of disgust her way, never having felt more manipulated. As if reading his thoughts, Morgana continued in a more nonchalant tone, "I probably would have died. You almost reached your goal." Then she swiftly rolled up his robe and handily tossed it at his feet. The green of her eyes deepened in the twilight; she may as well have been teasing him as in the old days, but there was such an underlying sharpness.

But Merlin rolled his eyes again as he caught the robe smoothly. "Don't be helpful, Morgana." She raised her hands in mock surrender.

"I  _was_  being helpful, I think. You  _almost_  killed me, as you've been trying to for so long." Morgana cast him a sidelong glance and she asked tentatively, "What stopped you from leaving me there?"

Merlin stood up so quickly he was in front of her before she could plan an exit.

"Morgana, killing you was never a goal. Ever." His clenched grip on the robe belied the calmness in his voice. "Believe me, I've desired you hurt, I've wanted you locked away, but I've never wanted you dead." Startled, she directed a stubborn look of disbelief up at him. The robe and his words both hit her at once, "It is that unfounded paranoia that started all of this!"

Merlin strode silently away as she untangled herself from the robe. Coldly, he threw over his shoulder, "I'm getting some firewood."

Face burning, Morgana went to charge after him. "Unfounded?" she hissed into the twilight.

The abruptness of her movements however, split the new pink scar on her ribs and she crumpled back down beside the tree, snarling in anger against the burn of it. She shoved the pain to the back of her mind, to it's familiar place, viciously yanking off her jacket and tunic and starting to rip the cloth into strips.  
Once healed, she would show him the consequences of everything  _he_ had done to start this.

* * *

Merlin had dropped at least half of the wood he was ostensibly gathering for a fire, though he felt positive that the heat of his bitterness and anger could warm a castle. Wouldn't that have been useful as he built fires on cold mornings, not daring to use magic?  
He had wandered who knew how far. Walking in a sensible, straight line wouldn't help to expel the frenetic energy from his argument with Morgana. He had a vague feeling that he had seen that tree before, and the sigh that escaped him held a small fraction of his frustration.

Sure as always, Morgana drove him completely to distraction.

Leaves crunched under his feet as he shuffled slowly back to where they would make their fractious camp. In a muddled way, he knew the path regardless of the tension misguiding his feet, by thinking of her at that tree. She spun around him as he turned this way and that, an odd compass. Cresting a small rise, Merlin quietly made his way to the edge of the clearing, grim-faced and cross.

Twilight had fully sunken into the forest floor, covering trees and ground alike in blue. For a moment Merlin wondered if Morgana was even still there, his unsettling inner compass notwithstanding. Flames alighted in his eyes as he peered around the clearing.

Morgana was facing away from him and had draped her padded leather jacket across her knees, un-armored after the battle. The set of her shoulders, however, indicated to Merlin that she was perpetually armored in other ways.

It appeared she had torn her tunic into shreds, knotted the ends, and was now carefully wrapping the ribbon around her stomach. His fingers unconsciously tensing, Merlin's golden gaze traced from her dark hair, those many braids still forming a manic crown, down the curved line of her spine, past the barely visible underside of her breast, to her nimble fingers neatly tying the cloth over her ribs. He watched her chin tip down to check her work and her hands gently press the cloth flat. Her hands slid smoothly to touch the fabric across her back; she experimentally straightened her spine, lifting her shoulders until pain halted the movement. After awhile, Merlin no longer needed magic to look at her; moonlight cast itself against Morgana's back, creating a sinuous white outline of her figure among the blue trees.

But his eyes remained ablaze as, confronted with the truly capable, vulnerable, and beautiful woman Morgana could so often be, the persistent torment of questions about his erstwhile friend paraded through his head. Why hadn't she been more patient? Why had he abandoned her? Couldn't she be stronger? Why hadn't he lent her any strength? Where did her darkness originate? Could he have done anything?

"Merlin, I know you were sneaky enough to hide your magic from a prince who basically lived on top of you, but let's do be honest about  _his_  thick head and then  _your_  simple lack of tracking skills, shall we." Morgana spoke to him without looking, casually shrugging into her jacket. Merlin, startled, seized the bundle of wood to his chest and shook his head.

"My tracking skills? What on earth am I tracking?" Merlin approached the tree and threw the wood down beside her.

"The deafest deer could hear you clambering up that hill, Merlin. Although I'm not sure what a doe would do, should she catch a magician staring at her in the darkness." Morgana's face was superiorly poised as she turned toward him, watching as he set to work on the fire, now with blue eyes focused on the ground.

"Again, I don't know what you're on about, Morgana. Look, firewood." Merlin's eyes flicked up briefly, pausing almost imperceptibly on the two toggles holding her jacket together and the inch of visible bloody cloth beneath. Morgana noticed though. She hid her small triumph, and inclined her head toward the way he had come back from the deeper forest.

"Did you get lost out there?" Her voice still held such indifference, and it set him on edge.

Without thinking, he answered, "No, I knew where you-" Merlin stopped when he noticed her slight reaction out of the corner of his eye.

"No," he repeated. "I am able to collect firewood. Didn't need Dollop-head to teach me that one." He immediately felt guilty for joining in on insulting Arthur, and hurried to show an expression decidedly non-conspiratorial.

And he wondered if amusement had really been in her eyes. She slid closer to where he worked, murmuring drily, "Well, these large forests of trees do make the task practically insurmountable."

Merlin let the comment fade unanswered. In response to her new proximity he moved himself away until his back was against a tree again, peering at her intently over the now roaring fire. Morgana hands rose up, causing Merlin's eyes to glow once more, but she was only warming them. Periodically she would scrub at the dried blood caked on her palms, tossing newly-reddened leaves into the fire. He sat perfectly still.

After an age spent in silence, Morgana finally looked up at Merlin to find him already looking at her. She tipped her head in faint amusement.

"I think we should get away from each other, Merlin," she said calmly. "I'd like to know which direction you're going tomorrow, and then I will obviously go the other way." His eyes narrowed.

"And what kingdom will you descend upon next?" he snorted. Her returning glance was slightly admonishing.

"Now, Merlin. We can strike a kind of peace, you and I. Just tell me which way to go. Or which way not to go, rather."

"Morgana, do you even  _enjoy_  peace? This is a pretty pathetic attempt at manipulating someone who's so well-acquainted with your history." Morgana huffed at Merlin's bitterness.

"Stop indulging in your inner, petulant serving-boy, Merlin. As I've said, and I think you know, you hardly have the courage to kill me. But that doesn't mean I want to kill you, or manipulate you, or any of the other ideas clattering around in your wooden head." Merlin opened his mouth, but Morgana went on.

"I want to return to the Isle of the Blessed." His eyebrows rose. "But not if that's where you were planning to go, of course."

Merlin was put off. A look of uncertainty momentarily passed over his face, and then he met her gaze once more.

"I do not plan to go to the Isle of the Blessed-," he started.

"Fine," she nodded. "In the morning I'll go that-" Merlin interrupted as her arm was raising northward.

"But I'm going to escort you to the Isle of the Blessed," he finished.

Morgana's well-hidden anger suddenly resurfaced as she protested, "Merlin! No. For one, I am not in your charge, and advise against your trying it."

"Morgana, you know I could-"

"And I can not imagine spending more days in your presence without deciding I  _shall_ kill you!"

Merlin added with a grimace, "And first I will go to the lake to see Arthur put to rest."

"I will not. Not ten days with detours, and not one day, and not one more night!" She swiftly rose and swept past him as he scrambled to his feet. He raised a hand at her back.

"Morgana!" She froze, although he had used no magic. "If you want to travel to the Isle of the Blessed, then I will be there whether you agree to it or not." Her one raised boot slowly settled next to her other one. His tone was full of warning.

"I will follow you there and I will leave you there, and take any boats with me, and set such a spell on those walls that you will never get out." He sighed tiredly.   
"Already my remaining life's work is to watch you, Morgana. But I will gladly do it, for Arthur and what could have been."

Morgana remained motionless, Merlin attempting to discern her most probable escape route, when her voice came through the new night's darkness.

"I will travel to the Isle of the Blessed, Merlin, and you may follow me," she said in an accommodating tone. His arm remained outstretched.

"We will travel to the lake and see the King put to rest, and I must speak with a friend. And then we will take you to the Isle of the Blessed," he stated clearly. Morgana spun around.

"A friend?"

Merlin dropped his arm, and only nodded. She swept back to the fire as quickly as she had left it, visibly ignoring him. The two settled uneasily on either side of the fire but Morgana faced the dark woods. Merlin, his face full of dread, stared intently at the firelight glimmering off her hair, and still unaware of her pleased, curving smile.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews/comments, yes? Did anyone get that she might be playing him? (Again, no finale spoilers. Be cool.)


	4. Make a start

_"I will travel to the Isle of the Blessed, Merlin, and you may follow me," she said in an accommodating tone. His arm remained outstretched._

_"We will travel to the lake and see the King put to rest, and I must speak with a friend. And then we will take you to the Isle of the Blessed," he stated clearly. Morgana spun around._

_"A friend?"_

_Merlin dropped his arm, and only nodded. She swept back to the fire as quickly as she had left it, visibly ignoring him. The two settled uneasily on either side of the fire but Morgana faced the dark woods. Merlin, his face full of dread, stared intently at her glimmering hair, and still unaware of her pleased, curving smile._

CHAPTER 4: Make a start

Dawn crept stealthily into the forest the next morning. Early on, before any animals stirred, Morgana awoke briefly and shifted from her un-injured hip, now sore from the unforgiving ground. Sleep had claimed her quickly, steering her into frantic dreams stained with bloody reds and bruised purples and blues. Her eyes welcomed this time right before dawn when everything was devoid of color, and nothing moved. Not even smoke rose from their fire as she glanced across the clearing to check on Merlin.

The wizard slept on his side, head resting on his folded arm, the other arm flung over his face so she could only see his nose and mouth. Morning dew had settled on Merlin's ruffled hair and on his shady beard but he didn't appear uncomfortable, mouth slightly open as he breathed faint white clouds into the air. Morgana swept her own hair over her shoulder to warm her neck in the chill, but it was damp and matted. Her eyelids lazily blinked, her mind still so exhausted from the dreams and the renewed pounding of wounds awake to heal.

She decided to turn over again, the hard ground on its own was uncomfortable enough, when she glanced at Merlin again in confusion. He had not moved, but Morgana found herself squinting at his outline, his face, his clothes. Was he awake? Morgana could usually sense when she was being watched, but she did not feel that now. His eyes were still covered anyhow. Rising a little, she glanced at the surrounding trees, peering into the heavy brush where Merlin had emerged with his firewood the night before. A few leaves swayed gently on a weak breeze, a bird finally woke and fluttered away to its breakfast, but Morgana still could not pinpoint what was making her feel so nervous. Frowning, she rolled over and settled down again, curling tightly around herself. Sleep came for her again, and she did not dream.

* * *

 

 _Excaliber!_  Morgana woke with such force she propelled herself into a sitting position, gasping at the pain in her ribs. Bright, mid-morning sunlight succeeded in disorienting her as she clumsily turned over to look at Merlin. The fire was still cold but Merlin was gone.

"Merlin?" Morgana stared at the ground where he had slept and it looked as if he had never been there at all. She hauled herself to her feet, muttering under her breath. She stood shaking with visible anger, foot tapping the ground, arms wrapped protectively around her torso, mouth twisting in an effort to not scream or cry in frustration. Not only had he abandoned her,  _again_ , but he had forgotten Excaliber! He had left it on the battlefield.

"On purpose?" she whispered aloud. With an exasperated shake of her head that sent twigs flying from her hair, Morgana paced to the fire and crouched, intent on forming a new plan.

"Damn you, Merlin!" she decried to the fire, churning the embers with a stick.

"I already  _know_  you don't like the plan, Morgana," a tired voice spoke from the forest. Startled, and with a slight yelp, Morgana fell off the balls of her feet, hands landing in the fire's ashes. Merlin's head gradually appeared over the small hill that led to a nearby stream. With a great deal of flailing, he just managed to make it over the top, the fish he was holding onto only slightly sandy. Picking himself up, Merlin started toward the fire until he saw Morgana's murderous look.

"Are you the usual amount of angry or has something else happened?" he asked, annoyed, and continued over. "Didn't get to conquer anyone this morning?" Morgana deliberately finished brushing ash from her hands, the rasping filled the clearing. Merlin studiously began working on the fish.

"When should we start our little journey, Merlin?" Morgana's face and voice were completely calm now, sounding all as if she were at a council meeting. Warily, Merlin stopped to look at her, elbow leaning on his knee, the fish's body indelicately dangling from an almost severed head. She remained composed, her chin jutting stubbornly every now and then. Finally Merlin screwed his face to one side, exhaled loudly, and with a slight roll of his eyes said, " _I'm_  going to eat my breakfast. Then we'll go."

Morgana glanced from his eyes to the fish and back, lips now pressed together to prevent an amused smile. He blinked back at her, surprised. With a slight nod she inclined her head toward the stream, then carefully stood up and made her way down the bank, fully grinning. She  _had_  expected him to share.

* * *

Morgana stepped carefully down the embankment, boots sliding in the soft dirt. Once at the edge of the stream she peeled the boots from her legs and shook them out, dirt, pebbles, and what looked to be part of a shattered shield-piece thumping to the ground. She splashed her way into the quicker middle stream until her feet were covered, then scooped a long drink into her hands. Toes sinking into the cool silt, Morgana slid her hands down her thighs and tipped her head back. Stretching in the sunlight, she closed her eyes to enjoy the forest once again. For a long time the impenetrable woods had served as her fortress, a shelter where she could hide her mysteries and plot her next moves...tragically soon-to-be-thwarted though they had been. The ancient, gnarled bark that had covered her homes, had sometimes been her home, was her protector, she knew. The earth had not given her magic to see itself overrun with persecutors; the forest would always help her.

"Morgana! Where are you!"

Morgana's eyes opened slowly, a wrinkle appearing between her brows. Turning slowly, she was treated to a view of Merlin scuttling down the bank, knees practically at his chin as he half-fell to the stream's edge. He looked at her hard, as if presuming her duplicity in just standing there.

"Well?" he asked expectantly. After a pause Morgana extended her index fingers down and said slowly, as if to a simpleton, "I'm in the river, Merlin. Have you gone blind?"

Merlin let her statement hang in the air before letting exasperation close his eyes.

"I can see that. Aren't you done yet? I'm finished with eating already."

Morgana smirked, and splashed water up her arms and onto the back of her neck.

"Have you been standing here the whole time?" he asked, but she still ignored him. Suddenly a great breeze whipped through the little ditch, blasting Merlin's hair from his forehead and sending a spray of water smacking into Morgana's face.

"Puh!" she spit ungraciously and rubbed a forearm across her cheeks. "What was that?"

Hands on hips, Morgana attempted to stare Merlin down, but the blue eyes stared innocently at the sky, the arms were casually folded across his torso. With her own eyes narrowed and watchful, Morgana sniffed, and began taking her hair out of its many braids, the crowning structure falling. Obviously displeased by his failure to hurry her along, Merlin went to sit cross-legged on one of the large grey boulders, easily half as tall as him, lining the stream.

"The river," he retorted in a low voice, while looking sullen.

Morgana laughed as she kneeled and leaned over to dip her hair in the current, its inky tendrils stretching with the swirl.

"Surely you're used to waiting, little Prince-Assist? For Arthur, and then even for Guinevere?" She gathered her hair in her fists and twisted, while giving him an upside-down grin, "Or was Guinevere kind to her lower friends after climbing her way to a throne? Was she  _kind_  to you?"

Merlin may have lunged forward if he weren't sitting. "Be quiet, Morgana."

"You forget, Merlin. I've seen the deepest recesses of your dear Queen's mind. Where a woman keeps all of her private thoughts about the men in her life. She may seem loyal to her husband, but a woman's thoughts don't lie." Morgana began to make her way slowly out of the stream, her fingers languidly twining her hair together. "Wouldn't you like to know how you look through a woman's eyes?" She smiled indulgently. "I mean, a friend's eyes, Merlin?"

He had gripped his knees tightly, and she thought there might be a faint glow in the back of his eyes. Morgana bent down to slip on her boots with a sly, sideways glance, so she saw him watching her movements; she subtly pressed a cautious hand to her ribs, where he could not see. His eyes followed Morgana as she came closer. Leaning her body flat against his boulder, Morgana set her elbows right below his leg, almost touching, and propped her chin on her hands, her index finger raised to tap the bottom of her lower lip.

"You might be scandalized, Merlin," she whispered confidentially, but could not restrain the smallest upturn of her lips. She relished in his pained expression, the bloodless tips of his fingers tensing, loosening. Merlin saw it in her eyes, how she enjoyed this minuscule portion of the revenge she felt she owed to him.

"Morgana," he said firmly, finally, "I don't think you could interpret a loving thought if you tried." He slid down the side of the boulder, the tension now mostly gone from his lanky frame although his shoulders remained high. He threw her a matter-of-fact glance. "And it's none of my concern." Merlin started up the embankment, making his way considerably smoother than before.

Morgana vibrated with fury, once again feeling as if she'd lost a battle. She raised a hand to go after him, then thought better of it. There was still so much to be done, and she would no longer submit to distraction. Instead, she chucked a stone as far as she could across the stream, where it burst through the trees and terrified a flock of birds, satisfying her. Determination in her step, Morgana climbed the embankment.

* * *

Merlin scuffed his boot across the fire's ashes, tamping down any leftover embers, overtly ignoring Morgana as she hauled herself over embankment. Though in the corner of his eye he noticed her struggle, the way one arm cradled her torso, her hand pressed against her injured thigh, he merely turned away from her.

"Come on," was all he said. A few seconds later Merlin felt his crumpled red robe hit the back of his knees, and he whipped around to find a smirking Morgana staring back at him. He yanked the robe from the ground and tugged it down onto his shoulders like a stole, glaring at the ground as he continued on his way.

"You're welcome," came the call from his back and he fisted his hands into the fabric. Soon he heard her footsteps behind him, never catching up but always keeping pace.

The terrain was easy-going, and while the sun remained bright the cover of ancient trees provided shade enough. Nevertheless, Merlin heard Morgana's strained breathing soon after they set out. He pushed ahead.

Finally, they encountered a wall of rock as high as his head, stretching in both directions for farther than he cared to detour around. Roots and fallen trees cascaded over the rock, so Merlin knew he could climb the wall easily, but he could sense Morgana could not.

After appraising the obstacle, he turned to find that Morgana was thinking the same. Arms folded across her torso, she was biting her lip in doubt. Morgana's eyes flitted along the wall as Merlin watched her chest heave with effort. He could see the bandage around her ribs stretch and loosen with every breath, and her red, flushed skin behind the toggles of her coat, shiny with sweat up to her redder cheeks.

Morgana had started to say something when she noticed Merlin's gaze and stopped. Eyebrows raising to cover his embarrassment, Merlin pressed his lips together and inclined his head toward the wall.

"What would you need to make it?" he asked. Self-consciously, Morgana surrounded herself more tightly with her arms, which mostly served to lift her jacket hem away from her body, exposing more skin across her waist.

"What do you mean?" she asked, watching Merlin surreptitiously angle himself away from her, and she smirked at his back. He waved his arm at the wall.

"What'll it be? A felled tree? Ladder made of roots?" Merlin turned back to her then. "What will be the fastest?" Her face now back to its faintly anxious state, Morgana furrowed her brows.

"Merlin, I really don't think we have the time to accomplish those things." Once again she bit her lip doubtfully. Merlin's shoulders dropped in disbelief.

"I'll use magic!" Morgana's mouth twitched slightly in response to the indignation in his voice. She raised her hands peaceably.

"Any magician would feel exhausted after the...day we had," Morgana's tone was accommodating. "I feel drained myself." Merlin scoffed, his eyes suddenly alight.

" _You_ are exhausted.  _You_ feel drained. Morgana, we're not the same."

Morgana shrugged and made a show of looking down the length of rock, as if searching for a better route. With a magnificent frown, Merlin stretched the index finger of his left hand skyward, then tapped it down, all the while keeping his eyes trained on Morgana's face.

A resounding crack echoed through the forest, making Morgana jump and snap her eyes back to Merlin's. She held his gaze as the thick tree clinging to the wall behind him split at its base, the bark groaning as shards of it flew into the air around them, and with a great  _whoosh_  the trunk tipped toward the forest floor. The tree crashed around the two magicians, teetering for a moment before settling on the ground in front of Morgana's feet. Leaves floated around them, fluttering against her and catching in her hair. Nothing but dust motes danced around Merlin, he was completely untouched, despite standing between two fallen branches. They stared at each other in the sudden silence, Merlin's face still and serious, Morgana's unreadable, except for a slightly curious narrowing of her eyes. Wordlessly, Merlin turned to the tree and, using the branches as footholds, climbed to the top of the wall. He disappeared beyond the edge, leaving Morgana no choice but to follow him.  
The tree made an excellent makeshift ladder but Morgana was soon cursing with every lift of her right leg. As she neared the top, a hand appeared under her nose. She slapped her own hand down on it, almost without realizing she had done so, sighing in relief as her last step was considerably lightened. The hand was soon gone, however, and she stumbled away from the tree.

" _Thank you, Merlin,_ " she bit out sarcastically. He returned her glare.

"Heal yourself, Morgana," Merlin said frustratedly. "Why won't you heal yourself? Are you trying to make me feel guilty? Because I don't. You deserve everything that you-"

"What do I care about your guilt?" Morgana snapped back. She was fitfully tugging at her braid, unaware that it was unspooling on her shoulder.

"Then what?" Merlin demanded. "I know that you can do it. I've seen you perform spells twice as-"

Morgana cut him off again, "I can't perform this spell!" He looked at her silently for a moment, his eyes carefully moving over her downcast face. She continued twirling the ends of her braid around her fingers, her lower lip pushed stubbornly forward as she stood rigidly in the shade. Merlin watched as her eyelids blinked rapidly, until she finally raised tear-filled eyes that stared from an angry face.

"You're right, " she murmured, and her voice was hoarse. "We're not the same, Merlin. I'm not just exhausted..." She licked her lips and looked away; he watched her pulse moved rapidly on her throat. Once again Morgana wrapped her arms around herself and said in a whisper, "I am actually drained. I feel that it's gone."

"What?" Merlin asked quietly, almost afraid. Morgana's eyes trained on him again, empty of tears but definitely afraid.

"My magic."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews, reviews. Review some reviews! Whichever. ;) Just no finale stuff, as per uje.
> 
> As I get further along I feel like their personalities are changing, although I'm trying my hardest to keep within what I can picture the actors doing. Success?


	5. Heal and Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written awhile ago...actually, I thought it was in here already. Oops. :) It was back during grad school times - you can't blame someone for being unorganized and forgetful about anything other than school during grad school times.
> 
> STILL HAVEN'T SEEN THE FINALE hahahaha

 

_"Then what?" Merlin demanded. "I know that you can do it. I've seen you perform spells twice as-"_

_Morgana cut him off again, "I can't perform this spell!" He looked at her silently for a moment, his eyes carefully moving over her downcast face. She continued twirling the ends of her braid around her fingers, her lower lip pushed stubbornly forward as she stood rigidly in the shade. Merlin watched as her eyelids blinked rapidly, until she finally raised tear-filled eyes that stared from an angry face._

_"You're right, " she murmured, and her voice was hoarse. "We're not the same, Merlin. I'm not just exhausted..." She licked her lips and looked away; he watched her pulse moved rapidly on her throat. Once again Morgana wrapped her arms around herself and said in a whisper, "I am actually drained. I feel that it's gone."_

_"What?" Merlin asked quietly, almost afraid. Morgana's eyes trained on him again, empty of tears but definitely afraid._

_"My magic."_

 

Merlin had folded his arms across his chest as his mind worked through what Morgana had admitted, unconsciously mirroring her own stance. She waited in the silence, watching as his eyes flickered over the ground, avoiding her.

"This is what you meant, yes? That I would get what I deserved? You hoped for it?"

"Stop it, Morgana." Merlin finally looked at her again. His expression was pained and uncertain.

"You look guilty, Merlin," she leaned forward onto the balls of her feet. "Did you do this?"

"No!" Merlin raised his hands toward her, warding off her accusation. Morgana scoffed in disbelief.

"Then you  _are_  pleased. Well, who's surprised? After you forced back all my efforts to help Camelot, to surpass what Uther and Arthur had done for its people, for  _some_ of its people, what could I expect?" Her bitterness brought Merlin angrily in front of her and he glared down at her.

"Don't try and excuse your actions with these delusions about saving Camelot anymore, Morgana," he hissed. She could feel his breath on her cheeks.

"Some savior!" His eyes were orange but he didn't appear to notice. "It disgusts me to think of all those who died at your hands in the light of how you think of them. They were not beneath you, Morgana. Camelot's citizens, magic-folk or not...those knights! My friends. My family. Your-" Merlin's rage seemed to choke him. "People who-who could have been your friends. Who could have helped you."

Merlin backed away from her, the heels of his hands pressing into his eyes. Morgana had progressively shaken more and more as he berated her, unable to speak, and now barely contained the despair on her face. She set her chin and angrily brushed a hand across her eyes, but Merlin did not see. He had backed into a tree and was breathing harshly, his pale face violently marked by reddened eyes. He looked up, and his eyes held their own immensity of despair, but Morgana did not see. Her chest heaved with emotion under her crossed arms and her gaze swung futilely across the forest, finally resting on Merlin.

"No one was going to help me."

The two stared at each other in the rising heat of midday. Morgana felt her own intentions clash with what Merlin had laid out for her, mind at war as she watched sullen anger, then guilt, then sadness play themselves out across Merlin's features. His sadness wasn't for her. Morgana let herself heave a sigh and gazed back at him with equal sadness.

"What ifs. Maybes. " Her whisper carried through the forest.

"Should haves." He agreed. With his own sigh, Merlin pushed himself away from the tree and came toward her, with no aggression this time.

"I'll heal you completely this time," he told her and reached forward. Morgana took a few hurried steps back.

"I don't-I don't think that's-you don't have to-," her hands warding him off in embarrassment. Merlin only shook his head, looking determined.

"It's fine."

But Morgana angled herself away from him until her legs hit another fallen tree, and she sat down surprised. Merlin took the opportunity to crouch in front of her.

"Morgana, I said it's fine." He settled onto one knee, propping an elbow on his other. His attempt to give her a neutral look was belied by a slight eagerness in his voice.

Morgana had leaned away from him, but bit her lip and slowly sat straighter. In a last effort, she said, "I know you don't care about me, Merlin, if not outright hate me. I don't expect-"

Merlin waved a hand in frustration.

"For once, Morgana," he said with exasperation, "Just let me do something without opposition, or a fight, or a dig. This has nothing to do with you." He swallowed uneasily. "You're slowing us down."

Morgana blinked a few times, before nodding in silence. Merlin nodded in return and scooted closer. With a slight turn, Morgana had her right side in front of him but didn't move any further. He cleared his throat and set his left hand on her thigh, spreading his fingers across the tear in her trousers. Morgana still didn't move, so Merlin used his index finger to poke her arm away from covering her ribs. Shocked, she opened her mouth to object, but Merlin caught her gaze before she spoke.

"Both at the same time," he told her as his hand slid under the side of her jacket, but he looked apprehensive. Morgana looked down at his hands with curiosity, felt her skin getting warmer through the bandage on her ribs and even through her leather trousers, but shrugged.

"Show-off," she muttered. "Well, you've started already, so you might as well keep going."

She watched his head tip closer to her injuries as he murmured, "I haven't started."

He didn't register the red blooms on her cheeks, how her eyes blinked in slight confusion. Morgana wiggled a bit on the log, impatiently holding her arm out.

"Well start then. Start the spell." Merlin nodded and pressed his palms into her skin a little harder, whispering a variety of healing spells, some she had heard before. Her skin grew even warmer as the pain was seemingly drawn out into the air to disappear and she closed her eyes in honest relief. Then he finally drew his hands away, the tips of his fingers the last to leave. He straightened and backed away a few steps. 

"Better?"

Morgana nodded, her eyes still slightly closed, her hand returning to her ribs to tentatively put pressure on them. She felt completely normal, like nothing had happened. Merlin nodded back, turned abruptly to grab his robe that had fallen to the ground at some time he wasn't paying attention.

"Easy," he coughed slightly, inclining his head toward the east. "Let's keep going." Morgana stood and followed him toward the darker forest, again a short distance behind him. Suddenly he heard a rush of steps and felt a tug on the back of his neckerchief. Merlin turned quickly to find Morgana right behind him. She drew her hand back and widened the distance between them.

"Thank you, Merlin." He could hear her remaining uncertainty about his motives in her tone, so Merlin just nodded. She nodded in return and raised her eyebrows when he didn't move for a few moments. He nodded again and turned away to continue into the woods.

When he didn't hear steps behind him, Merlin swiveled around, walking backward as he searched for her. Morgana had tossed the dirty ribbon of her makeshift bandage to the ground, now wearing only her jacket. She reached skyward to stretch her torso, rose on her tiptoes. Her eyes were closed, and Merlin stopped as the setting afternoon sun created the silhouette of a now healthy and strong Morgana le Fey; he refused to use magic to see the strip of skin up her sternum. When she settled on her feet and faced his direction her face was in shadow but Merlin could still see her green eyes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Merlin had visited this particular lake many times before, and already for one burial. As he and Morgana walked silently through the forest, only the sound of their breathing and the rasp of their fingers on helpful tree branches permeated the twilight air. Despite knowing that a healthy Morgana was dangerous, magic or no, he felt better having her follow behind him. She had a tendency to exploit weakness, and approaching this waterfront made him feel especially vulnerable. He couldn't let her see it.

Morgana, for her part, had noticed the hunch in his shoulders even in the dimming sunset. She knew the attitudes of those bony shoulders well, and they were full of dread. Was it because of Arthur only? She hauled herself up a slight incline after him, unconsciously rubbing her newly healed ribs, with a pondering twist of her mouth.

The darkness before the moon could do its work soon became a hindrance, and Merlin slowed. They moved as if attached with a string; Merlin using his magical eyesight to spot dips in the earth with Morgana swerving after him. Often his white hand had not yet pushed off a tree's trunk when her hand landed next to it. As the moon rose to then light their way, Morgana let the distance grow between them, shaking off the small smile that she had suddenly been startled to find on her lips. Merlin didn't have time to notice that her footsteps were fainter behind him as the trees gave way to a small waterfront and a smallish lake placidly rolling before them.

"We're here," Merlin said and started toward the water with a purpose. With confusion, Morgana followed after him, brushing forest debris and dirt from herself. Merlin stopped with the toes of his boots in the lake and, before Morgana could question what was going on, his eyes were alight with magic. He uttered a single word of power and waited. Morgana's gaze flickered between Merlin's calm face and to the lake's surface where he seemed to be staring. Everything was still for a long while, the moon continuing to rise and the lake only growing more tranquil.

In fact, the lake's surface was perfectly glassy when the woman emerged from the water, her slow walk bringing her progressively closer to the shore. Morgana stared as water ran from the woman's brown hair and white clothing until they were dry, observing a sweet face that looked very much like it belonged on any village daughter. The woman's face was an ancient solemn, however, until she stopped a few feet in front of Merlin. Then a smile, full of sorrow and intimacy, spread across her face. She held out her arms.

"Freya," Merlin sighed, and he stepped into the woman's embrace. He closed his eyes, his fingers fisting themselves in her long hair.

Morgana observed their hug with raised eyebrows, not in surprise but curiosity.

"Hello, water-woman," she said, with a perfunctory and extremely slight bend at her waist. "I am Morgana le Fey, although I'm sure you know that. I am Merlin's captive." Her head tilted to the side and she smiled. "Well. For the moment."

"Morgana!" Merlin hissed in admonishment as he slid out of Freya's arms.

But Freya placed her hand in his and said, "Yes, you are Morgana le Fey." Freya's eyes held no hint of reproof or intimidation. "I do know that."

Morgana smiled and gave a slow blink of satisfaction. She raised a hand in Merlin's direction.

"I can leave Merlin here with you, dear, if you prefer. I have other places to go and people to-"

Merlin rolled his eyes and said quickly, "I am taking Morgana to the Isle of the Blessed." He turned back to Freya, holding both of her hands. "Can I take her there? All that I've tried to do...will this help in any way?"

Morgana gave a slightly indignant scoff but Merlin ignored her. Freya looked him in the eye but appeared more to be remembering something. Her brow furrowed, but then smoothed as an apparent decision was made. She squeezed his fingers.

"It is important for you to witness the sending off of your king." Merlin frowned.

"But-" he began, while Freya interrupted him to produce a bundle from somewhere, and set it in his hands. She had handed one to Morgana too before either one could say anymore.

"The knights come at daybreak. You can rest," Freya nodded toward the bundles, "and change and eat." She raised a pale hand toward a rise in the bank of the lake, taller than a man, where weeping willow fronds curtained over the small cliff to touch the water. With a hint of authority, Freya said to Morgana, "You'll have privacy over there."

Morgana looked from Freya to Merlin, both of their gazes expectant. After a moment, Morgana bounced the bundle slightly in her hands and pressed her lips together in mock excitement.

"Thank you," she said with condescension, but slid past Merlin and crunched along the beach to where Freya had pointed.

"I'm sorry for her, Freya," Morgana heard Merlin mutter before she was out of earshot. With an eye-roll, Morgana brushed the weeping willow's green tendrils aside. The beach continued along the bank but a portion of the lake was beneath the overhang as well. Enough room for a person to bathe and to sleep. Morgana unwrapped the bundle to find it was a blanket, containing a pair of black breeches that well-matched her torn ones, a gray tunic, and an apple and hard cheese. She set it all on the bank and let out a genuine gasp of delight to see a small sliver of soap. Peeling her grimy jacket and torn trousers from her body, she stepped into the water.

Knowing that Merlin and Freya would hear the splashes, Morgana used her wilderness-bath to watch them surreptitiously. When she peered through the greenery Merlin was animatedly gesturing as Freya nodded; Morgana knew he was telling her about the previous day. Sometimes his hand would thrust in her direction, tense with frustration and fingers outspread, and Morgana couldn't help but shudder and withdraw slightly. But she quickly dressed in the new clothing and emerged, eating the cheese.

Freya stood in the same place before, now alone. Some rustling in the forest where they had come from told Morgana that Merlin was now changing himself. Nonchalantly, Morgana stepped in front of Freya and ate beside her.

"I suppose I should not fear death, then?" Morgana asked, a secretive smile playing on her lips between bites. "Is it easy to become a lady of a lake?" Morgana took a bit of the apple and crossed her arms in front of her chest, a listening posture on her frame. Freya had been gazing at the shore but she turned slightly to look at Morgana, her eyes filled with sadness.

"Your fear of death makes you want it," Freya said softly after a long pause. Morgana stopped chewing.

"You destroy and burn, where others try to create, and you enjoy the power of it. The earth is scorched where you have occupied it. I see those scars as they stretch across time, an unfortunate legacy of a vulnerable soul."

Morgana trembled with anger, apple forgotten in her gripping hand. "You know nothing of my power and what I tried to create," she spat, leaning toward Freya. "I scorched what  _needed_  to burn. I was not weak. The marks I leave-." Morgana felt a hand spin her around and the apple flew out of her fingers.

"Get away from her, Morgana," Merlin protested, releasing her quickly when Morgana's nails raked across the top of his hand. On unsteady feet, Morgana stumbled in the water, regaining her balance on the shore.

"I was the only one," she hissed to the night air. Morgana raised her finger accusingly at Freya. "I 'burned' the earth? I cleansed the earth."

Filled with rage, Morgana seemed to actively contain her trembling, fingers clenched around the wet braid on her right shoulder. She backed away from them into the shadows surrounding the lake but Merlin saw the tears glinting in her eyes. Stopping suddenly, she declared, "See what grows from my scorched earth!" and she spun around, melting into the weeping willow without another sound.

Merlin watched Freya carefully for a moment. "Are you alright?" She nodded, and noticed how he held one hand in the other, deep red scratches marring his pale skin. He glanced down at his hand and then looked questioningly at the understanding in her eyes. Freya put her own hand over his.

"Her marks last forever."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oy, this writing thing is hard. Isn't it silly to be impatient with other authors when you take ages yourself? *shame* ;)
> 
> Review, reviews, reviews, and hey! Still haven't seen the finale. Who'd have thought I could make that happen? Although I follow someone on Pinterest (a stranger, natch) who loooves Merlin, and she won't stop posting spoiler-y stuff. Basically, I've gotten a very, very, VERY sad gist from the few things I haven't averted my gaze from in time. Butdon'ttellmeanything.
> 
> How's my version going for you?

**Author's Note:**

> **Please Review! I take all comments and criticisms, especially for how I format. It also spurs me to keep writing this thing.
> 
> AGAIN, if you DO review, please don't reveal any finale events! I've still (2018) made it without seeing the finale! Don't even tell me if you liked it. ;) Thanks


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